The Dictates of Conscience
by La Romanesque
Summary: Set after CotBP. Will is condemned of Treason and sentenced to transportation by the machinations of Lord Cutler Beckett. Norrington tries to carry on his old life, while Elizabeth is determined to rescue her ex-fiance. AU, Norri/Elizabeth, Will/Elizabet
1. Chapter 1

**_The Dictates of Conscience_**

_Chapter One: In the Service of His Majesty_

* * *

Lord Cutler Beckett was musing on the virtues of capital investments the morning that Jack Sparrow escaped from Port Royal. He had been reclining on a chaise, reading the latest tract by Richard Adams, an interesting piece he found morally uplifting. When he heard the news, he looked up from _The Wealth of Nations _long enough to briefly count the losses that he would sustain from the pirate's return to lawlessness, but soon was engrossed once more in economic theory. Later, when he heard that the young but talented blacksmith Will Turner had been an accomplice in the break out, he closed the book and put it aside entirely. "Oh how absolutely perfect," he thought, and laughed delicately. 

Cutler Beckett had always been displeased with the East India Company's inability to keep its men away from the abominable Navy press gangs. Nor did the crown see fit to recompense him for his loss, except with windy words of "duty" and "service." As if those brought in the pounds sterling that really sustained an empire. He could barely manage with the employees permitted him, much less sustain the Commonwealth. Able seamen did not grow on trees, or ordinary seamen, for that matter. Ships, which did grow on trees- Beckett noted the witticism for his next society evening- were even more scarce. His best smuggler, an opium runner in China, had snapped its mast in a squall the week before. As far as he knew, they were still in port in Asia, vainly searching for a replacement. The situation had already cost him weeks of wasted income- untaxed, unmonitored income, the best kind for business. Still, he would find a way to remedy it, as he always did when profit beckoned, which brought him to his current situation.

He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a pen to begin: "The Lord Cutler Beckett, etc, on behalf of His Majesty King George III, hereby charges Mr. William Turner with the crime of Treason…" Satisfied with the opening, he plunged into the body of the missive with an enthusiasm born of elation.

Some minutes later, Becket set down his quill, taking care not to drip on his masterpiece, and walked to his window, which looked out into the harbor where all sorts of ships, sloops, xebecs, brigs, and boats were humming with activity.

* * *

Governor Swann stood at the window of his office and gazed down at the ship preparing to leave Port Royal with his ex-soon-to-be-son-in-law in chains below deck. It was the _Matilda_, a twelve-gun sloop employed in scouring the cays for smugglers and rumrunners. A small vessel, to be making such a long journey, but one of the few royal ships in the harbor ready to sail. Swann almost hoped it wouldn't stand the voyage. Elizabeth would never give up as long as there was some hope of reuniting with William Turner- which, of course, brought him to the task at hand. Opening the door, he called in a slave boy, a page for the officials in the capital.

"Go fetch Captain Norrington from Fort Charles," Swann said slowly and carefully. "Tell him that he is to come to Governor Swann's office right away. If anyone tries to tell you he's busy, say it's urgent business from the capitol." He did not look at the boy as he gave these commands, but continued to stare out at the harbor. The slave boy bowed, and with a quick "yessir" started away.

He ran down the steps of the town hall, tipping his hat to the gentlemen and officials coming in the opposite direction. Slowing his pace as he came to the docks, the boy also watched the preparation of the Matildas, on a much more intimate scale than the Governor. Several were grumbling amongst themselves, lamenting that they must leave behind the rich prizes of the Spanish Main for the empty sea and the treacherous waters of the southern capes. But they had a duty to obey, whether they had sought out the ship or been pressed into it, and they had accepted their profession, to risk their lives in the service of His Majesty's Navy. Unlike the wretch they would be dragging aboard in a few hours, the boy thought, remembering the gossip he had heard a few days before. He contemplated the fate of the sailors. Did they sometimes feel as he did, these imposing and powerful men, trapped into wordless obedience by the threat of the lash? He had been beaten a few times as he had had to learn the subtleties of serving government men, but the mere sight of the cat was enough to make him shudder. Was it really a crime if a man decided not to give in to that intimidation? Depends on his reasons, the boy thought. But it was better for him not to think of rebellion, no matter how noble the cause, when he knew he could not avoid the punishment that would come with it. They might send his mother away, and he was not willing to take that risk.

Which was why he again quickened his step and ran to the fort. The guards, used to seeing the pages running back and forth with messages, smiled as he walked by. Norrington, the boy knew from past service, could usually be found in the map room, charting a course for his latest pirate-catching expedition. But today, taking advantage of the bright afternoon sun, he was on the parade ground, practicing sparring with his midshipmen. The boy approached him authoritatively, nonetheless.

"The Governor wants to see you, Captain."

"What?" Norrington grunted between heavy breaths. He turned his eye to the boy for a fraction of a second, during which the young man Norrington had been engaging made a thrust at his captain's stomach. The bated point caught a buttonhole on his waistcoat, and Norrington turned back just as quickly. While the midshipman had paused for a moment to celebrate his hit, Norrington slapped his neck with the flat of his sword. As the young man stepped back, surprised, and rubbed the red line that had appeared, Norrington looked at the slave boy.

"Well done, to take advantage of a distraction. But remember, a wounded, even a dying man can still kill you…" The messenger cleared his throat impatiently, and Norrington stopped. "But it seems I have been summoned. Mr. Bradford, you are responsible for the rest of the exercises today."

Norrington walked to the slave boy, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

"The Governor…" he began.

"I heard you the first time," Norrington said, not unkindly. "You may go now, I know the way to his offices." He had a nagging feeling that this had something to do with the foolish Turner boy, and he did not want anyone else, no matter how insignificant, to see his perturbation on the subject. As the boy turned to leave, though, Norrington remembered his state of undress and called him back. "Wait, will you go retrieve my coat? I left it in my office."

"yessir." It was a hot day, indeed, the boy thought, if the fastidious Captain Norrington was found dishabille in any way outside his house. He ran to the room and slung the heavy wool coat over his shoulder, the full skirts swinging behind his back. "Here, sir."

"A penny for your trouble." Norrington tossed a coin absentmindedly and dismissed the boy. He pulled on his coat and arranged his hat on his sweaty brow. A rather improper habit for seeing the Governor, but Norrington suspected his appearance would be the least of Swann's troubles. Still, the captain knew he needed some form of composure to disguise the unease he felt internally. Clasping his belt and good sword around his waist, Norrington set out for the town hall.

A tall liveried servant opened the door and announced Captain Norrington. Governor Swann was still standing at the window. The door shut, he began to speak. Norrington knew the subject immediately, being privy, of course, to the comings and goings of nearly all His Majesty's ships and sloops from the harbor, and their business, and his earlier prediction proved true. He had also observed the preparations of the _Matilda _on his way from Fort Charles.

"Should I have done more to defend the boy, James? I know, he was spared from death, largely due to your own testimony, but I could have given him an official pardon…"

"To do so would be to undermine the very law that you represent…and taint your daughter with a treasonous husband." Norrington interrupted Swann's hesitant speech with firmness and conviction. He had felt a sort of responsibility for Turner, and was disappointed with his fate in an almost fatherly way. Although he had been merely a lieutenant on the _Dauntless _that day they pulled the boy from the water, he thought that Will's near death by the hands of pirates would dissuade him from the profession entirely…and that had been the case, until Jack Sparrow. He even would have been willing to forgive Turner all his rash actions in his wild attempt to save Elizabeth, commandeering the _Interceptor _and damaging the_Dauntless_…but freeing a convicted pirate was beyond all reason, if not conscience as well.

Governor Swann shook his head at the mention of his daughter.

"Lord Beckett wanted to charge her too…." Governor Swann raised his eyebrows at Captain Norrington, who was taken aback by this revelation.

"_She_was Turner's accomplice, he said, ignoring Norrington's insistence. She counterfeited a fainting spell to create a distraction, and then tried to defend him from the soldiers… Elizabeth is prone to swooning, as you well know." The governor smiled wryly and wearily. "But he could not be dissuaded from arresting Will."

Norrington regained his composure. "Mr. Turner was tried and convicted in a fair civil court. Scores of witnesses attending the hanging saw him attack our own soldiers. His case was indefensible. I advocated leniency…For Elizabeth's sake, I suppose."

"Yes," the governor sighed, "She has taken ahold of all of us, I fear. Turner risked his life to rescue her from that pirate, which I believe weighed in his favor at sentencing…

"Others were willing to do the same, sir," Norrington interrupted softly.

The governor paused. "I know, James." After a brief moment of silence, Swann came back lightheartedly. "And he is an excellent blacksmith." Norrington nodded, and his hand strayed unconsciously to the elegantly swept hilt of his sword.

The governor turned away from the window and stepped toward Norrington. "But it is done. Turner leaves on the evening tide. I called you here because I want to ensure that he is not accompanied by a certain ex-fiancee you both share." Swann looked pointedly at Norrington. "I would not have her throw her life away for the sake of a foolish boy who is too rash to consider the consequences of his actions." Swann's anger at Turner came not from a loathing of piracy, but at the pain the young man had caused his daughter by getting himself shipped off to a prison colony.

Norrington took a breath and looked at his feet. "I do not think it would be proper for a former suitor to be calling on her so soon after losing her betrothed." He looked up again. "And besides, the ship doesn't leave for another six hours. I can't respectably visit for more than a few minutes."

"I have arranged for you to attend a concert together. A symphony has come all the way from London to play in Port Royal, for the entertainment of the officers here. As a gentleman you will need a companion. Afterwards you may dine at the governor's mansion. I've already instructed the cook and servants," Governor Swann said, somewhat pleased with himself that he had already considered the captain's objections.

"I will do what is necessary, sir. But I ask you to consider whether it may be wiser for you to stay with her yourself." Norrington spoke resolutely, but the governor was adamant.

"She has seen enough of me lately. I want her to remember the future she has here. That William Turner is not the only man who loves her."

Norrington looked down again, and then nodded wordlessly.

"She will thank us later for protecting her from herself," Governor Swann said, although the optimism in his voice did not match the sorrow in his eyes. "But you must go prepare," he continued, noticing at last Norrington's still-damp face and dusty stockings. "I have told the servants to keep an eye on her, but she is so friendly with them I doubt they would stand up to her appeals for long."

Norrington bowed, and headed for the door.

"Thank you, James," Swann said.

"Your servant, sir," Norrington replied, and continued on his way.

The more he thought about it, he realized that his decision to give Sparrow a head start was also likely a result of Elizabeth's defense of the man. It was dangerous for him to allow his affections to get the better of his duty…

Walking hastily back to his residence, a fair-sized cottage on the edge of town, Norrington considered his situation. He had thought that releasing Elizabeth from their hastily formed engagement would free his mind for the requirements of the service, but even as her wedding day came closer he could not help thinking about what might have been…And just when all the arrangements had been made for William Turner to take her out of his reach forever, the Lord Cutler Beckett had to take an interest in the piratically inclined blacksmith and cast the whole affair into disarray again. He had prepared for the eventuality that he could never possibly marry Elizabeth, and felt a strange irritation at the zealous merchant who had taken away his certainty. He had convinced himself that he would never be a good husband for Elizabeth. She might as well marry Turner now anyway, considering how often a captain of the Royal Navy could expect to be at home between commands. Was a captain even good enough for Miss Swann? His pay would be inconsistent, and he was very young to be promoted. The whole situation was distressing.

Sighing, he pulled on his blue coat and best stockings, dusted his wig, and carefully tied his neck cloth. As he opened the door to the street he put his thoughts aside and resigned himself to his fate.

* * *

**_Authors' Notes:_**

**This story was co-written by La Romanesque and Quercus.**

Hello to all who have made it this far! We are exceptionally excited that you read our tale. Now on to the real notes.

There are many historical periods in which one may place PotC, ranging from around 1690 to 1780, by fashion and style of ship rigging and design. Barbossa, for example, wears an exceptionally old-fashioned style of dress, whereas Norrington wears a 1730's style coat. The marines, on the late end of the spectrum, are dressed in uniforms of the late 18th century. So we took the liberty of placing our story in the 1770's, for a few reasons. Will's sentence of transportation to Australia (which is where he will end up) only makes sense in this time period, as before the 70's, those sentenced to transportation were usually sent to the Americas or the West Indies. As such, it is unlikely that someone already there would be sentenced to such a punishment, but we couldn't very well kill him, now could we?

Secondly, for those of you who have been itching to tell us the Norrington is a _commodore_, not a captain, the fact is that Disney, in this as in so many other instances, has made an error. Commodore was a temporary rank for the purpose of leading certain expeditionary groups of more than one ship when an admiral was not available, or a captain was viewed as particularly suited for the position. It did not become a permanent rank until 1996, or thereabouts. So, our Norrington is in fact still a captain.

And lastly, a note on the title. The title is an adaptation of a longer quote from Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance: "Always act on the dictates of your conscience, my boy, and chance the consequences!" (The Pirate King, to Frederic) We see a lot in common between Frederic and Norrington, and we hope that Norrie will have an equally happy ending.

Whew! That was a lot. Hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review if you have any suggestions or comments.

Sincerely, La Romanesque and Quercus


	2. Chapter 2: Conduct befitting a Gentleman

_**The Dictates of Conscience**_

_Chapter Two: Conduct Befitting a Gentleman_

* * *

As he arrived, Norrington's horse was led away by two bustling servants, and he walked up the stairs to the red and gilt door of the governor's mansion. The butler (who had watched Norrington carefully as he came up the path- there was no sense ending up like the last holder of his post) answered the captain's businesslike knocks and showed him to the parlor.

"Miss Swann will be ready momentarily," he said briskly, and left Norrington alone in the richly furnished room. Norrington had come here only once before, when Governor Swann had invited him personally to tell him of the Admiralty's intention of making him commodore for a mission to Nassau- althought that had been interrupted with Elizabeth's kidnapping.

Evidence of that fateful night was all around him, as he examined the room, although he never left his chair. The chandelier had been replaced, Norrington noticed, and a crimson Persian rug didn't quite cover the light-colored patch of new floorboards beneath it. That the_Black Pearl _had been able to reach the mansion at all astonished him, especially as he remembered the heavy fire that was also directed at Fort Charles. The ship had to be equipped with carronades, and not particularly heavy ones, for it to be so fast; maybe a few stern- and bow-chasers could reach the hill, and yet they had bombarded the fort from quite a distance. If Sparrow handled his guns half as well as that Barbossa had, perhaps it was for the better that he had lost the pirate in the hurricane. Troubling.

As Norrington reflected on the damage that nine-pound roundshot could do to a china cabinet, Elizabeth descended from her room and brought his mind uneasily back to the situation at hand. The mansion's wounds from the pirate attack were healed much more easily than those of its inhabitants. She was beautiful, in a pale blue silk _robe à l'anglaise_ and white gloves. Norrington rose and bowed. "Good evening, Miss Swann." He swallowed the impulse to use her christian name and to compliment her appearance. Elizabeth looked very well this evening, as always, but her expression confused Norrington into silence. She did not look angry, as he had feared, or even melancholy, which he had dreaded even more; she was simply distant, as if determined to keep her mind elsewhere the entire evening. Norrington was sure she would imagine Will's face in place of his- if she could imagine the restless blacksmith taking an interest in the symphony at all, he mused. No, that was wrong, he thought. Elizabeth was the impatient one, and Will would not take her to a performance because he knew she would probably not enjoy it.

"Good evening, captain," Elizabeth said, and made a small courtesy. "Shall we go?"

Norrington nodded, and gestured for her to exit first. She walked hurriedly to the door, which the butler silently opened. As she was stepping over the threshold, her toe caught the edge of her petticoat, and she stumbled a little as a quiet _rip _of tearing fabric was heard. "Damn it," she said under her breath, and Norrington almost laughed at interruption of their gravity. "It's all right, Miss Swann, just come upstairs and I'll get you another one," said the kind-faced maid standing on the steps.

"No, we haven't the time for me to get dressed again. I'll just tear the hem off, and you can put a new one on later," Elizabeth said, and reached down to grasp the light muslin edged with lace.

"Wait, you needn't do that. I can mend it for now, it will only take a minute." Elizabeth was surprised to hear Norrington offering to fix her petticoat.

"You know how to sew?" she asked incredulously

Norrington smiled. "When one is a young midshipman, faced with a particularly fastidious captain who insists that his officers look like dandies, necessity is an excellent teacher," he said, as he pulled a small needle case and a bit of thread from an inner coat pocket. She was sure it would be more appropriate to politely deny his offer and let Mary fix it, but she was curious about the captain's apparent skill and quietly waved the maid away as Norrington dropped to one knee. He lifted the skirt just barely enough to get his hand under the fabric and brought the needle up through the back. Shifting his angle akwardly for more light, Elizabeth called to the butler. "Get him something to sit on, please, Parker." Norrington protested that he was perfectly comfortable, but a few seconds later the butler was standing behind him with a low three-legged stool from the kitchen. He sat down reluctantly, but still kept his work as close to the ground as possible.

"Oh, honestly," Elizabeth said, exasperated, and lifted the petticoat up so that Norrington's hands were at a level with his knees. The captain blushed, his white wig emphasizing the red of his cheeks as he caught a glimpse of her embroidered silk shoe and stockinged ankle. He finished off the end of the thread and smoothed the petticoat back in place. Elizabeth lifted her gown to examine the work. "Neatly done, captain," she said. As they walked down the stairs (careful to hold her skirts well out of the way of her feet this time) she continued. "modest, chaste, and good at needlework. You make a far better lady than I, James."

Norrington smiled, relieved that the initial coolness of their meeting had receded a little. "I should hope those qualities are just as desirable in a gentleman."

Elizabeth looked off into the low evening sun. "Perhaps," she said, and climbed into the waiting carriage.

She avoided his furtive glances as they took their opposite seats. He was nervous, she could tell. Well, at least he felt some qualms about treating her like a silly little girl who was too foolish to take care of herself. They could not talk about that, though. Elizabeth knew he wanted to, knew he wanted to say he was sorry for Will and sorry for going along with this charade, but Captain Norrington had to keep his composure.

When her father had told her of Norrington's "invitation" she knew it could not have truly been James' choice. He avoided her as much as possible; Weatherby Swann must have put him up to it, and Norrington was too bound by duty not to follow the governor's wishes. It had taken enormous strength of will for him to let her go; releasing her from the engagement had been testament to the magnitude of his affections. She hated to hurt him, but she could never be the wife of a naval captain. She remembered when she was young, after hearing Lieutenant Norrington's pirate stories she wanted to come with him and fight in those stirring battles…but that idea had been firmly crushed as she grew older, and realized that Norrington's wife would be left behind on shore, only to sit and wait patiently far away from adventure. She loved Will because he was different. Rash at times, yes, but he always acted exactly as his conscience told him, without thought of rules or limitations. And she could share in his adventures, because he was not so thoroughly entwined in the system of rank, merit and tradition into which James had firmly rooted himself, which had no use for females except as ornaments and incentives for which to fight. The captain could not make up for that fact, no matter how much he loved her.

She turned her head ever so slightly and gazed at him out of the corner of her eye. He sat motionless, his eyes closed. She wondered if he really liked the symphony. Was his seeming concentration an attempt to appreciate the music, or to forget about the uncomfortable situation at hand? She turned back to the orchestra, only to surreptitiously peek at him once more. His eyes remained shut. Emboldened, she looked at him more openly. He was so still, quite the opposite of her Will, who she was sure would have been fidgeting by now. He would have whispered in her ear and whisked her away between movements to dance under the stars outside, with the sea breeze blowing away any notions of propriety… She felt tears rolling down her cheek at the thought of him. Reaching for her handkerchief, she stifled the urge for a decent wail and contented herself with a small sigh. She nearly jumped as beside her, the captain sighed even more deeply. Sneaking yet another glance, she finally realized the situation. She had not expected to laugh the whole evening, yet suddenly, inexplicably, she began to giggle. Norrington let out a soft snore. She could control herself no longer, and a strangled half sob, half laugh burst from her lips. The captain awoke with a start, and blushed for the second time as he saw Elizabeth's bury her face in a square of linen to stifle her sniggering. He grabbed her arm and walked hastily to the exit. Before the attendant could even reach the handle, they had rushed into the foyer and shut the door behind them. The moment the latch clicked shut Elizabeth's laugh echoed through the high ceilings. Norrington, still bright red but gamely clutching Elizabeth's elbow in an attempt at dignity, quietly asked her if she would like to leave early. She nodded, and allowed him to lead her to their waiting carriage. The ride was quiet, save for the captain's murmured apologies for spoiling the evening. Elizabeth smiled at him. "It's nothing, James," she answered, "I'm sure you are exhausted from your work." He nodded solemnly, which made her giggle again. Embarrassed, he took up a great interest in the scene passing by their window. Elizabeth settled back in her seat, strangely content. The great captain is human after all, she thought. Strangely, the idea gave her hope, and she was lost in her own daydreams until they arrived once more at the governor's mansion.

* * *

**Authors' Note: A little fluffier episode... but don't worry, there will be some drama. For now, anyway, you're being spoiled by frequent updating, due to a decently sized stash of already written material. Closer to the end it's a bit spottier, so enjoy it while it lasts!**

**Still co-written by Quercus and La Romanesque**


	3. Chapter 3: Indiscretion

Elizabeth ducked into the Purple Squid's low door. She looked entirely too furtive, Jack Sparrow thought, momentarily turning from his mug of cheap beer, which sat on the ship-wreck salvaged boards that made up the bar in front of him. The pub was the haunt of sailors who were short on prize money, and had long ago been given up by even the cheapest prostitutes due to the patrons' inability to match their hourly rates. Thankfully, Elizabeth had the good sense to dress as a boy, but even so her fair skin and slender figure turned some heads. There were always some of that inclination among nautical types, Jack mused. She took a seat by him at the bar, much to the disappointment of a tall redhead at a nearby table who had leered as she went by. Jack whispered in her ear meaningfully, taking a care to smile lecherously at the other man before she nodded and the two walked to a more private table in the back of the bar.

Once alone, Jack affected a much more businesslike attitude. "Now then, what service of mine might you be requiring? If I'm not much mistaken, might it be the retrieval of one blacksmith recently turned piratical assistant?"

"Can you help me?" Elizabeth asked.

"Can I? Does Will Turner like effeminate hats? Of course I can, or my name's not Captain Jack Sparrow. The question, love, is will I? What inducements do you offer to tempt me to undertake such a venture? Hm? Persuade me." Jack leaned back in his chair and grinned devilishly.

"I have money," Elizabeth said, "a hundred pounds now, and more when I can sell some of my things,"

"Piffling," Jack dismissed her with a wave of his hand, "I've found bigger prizes on dinghys."

"Do you want prizes then? I'll do everything I can to get you a letter of marque. Think of it- all the colonial merchants at your mercy, the wealth of the New World in your pocket."

"Tempting," Jack nodded, twirling his beard and considering, "But the war with the colonies won't last forever. And the thought of being under the command of some ancient nob in a wig… perhaps the colonies know what they're about."

"Traitor."

"Sticks and stones, love. Come now, surely you've got something else in that pretty head of yours?"

"You owe him. Will saved your life."

"Probably. But you, conversely, were the one who led your friend Norrington straight to me, knowing full well his enthusiasm to throw a rope about my neck-- and dispatched all my rum. And, desperate as Will's fate may be, he is not, in fact, in mortal peril, beyond the chance that he dies of a broken heart. Transportation's not so bad, plenty of fresh sea air. He might like Australia- lots of feathers, you know," Jack said, gesturing vaguely about his head as if adorning invisible headgear.

"Jack, you know how little concern the Navy has for transported prisoners. He's as likely to die of fever as the gallows!" Her voice cracked.

She had not wanted to resort to this, though she had already put the plan into motion, anticipating Jack's reticence. She took a deep breath and considered one last time. She realized that she had made up her mind the day that Will had been taken. She should not be hesitating now considering her own welfare.

"Look, I can get you information, the movements and locations of every Navy ship in the Caribbean. You'd be ready for anything," she said.

Jack looked wary, "That is a fair prospect," he said, "if you can deliver."

She nodded resolutely. "I can."

"Traitor." He smiled and leaned closer, "So what's the plan?"

"It's a long shot, but you've relied on worse, I know. One of the admirals- he's the one in charge of intelligence matters- died last week. A certain ex-commodore we both know is positioned to take up the Admiral's post. After that, all I need is access."

"Are you sure you possess the constitution for such an undertaking? Turning spy on an old friend for the sake of a blacksmith's boy?

Her eyes blazed. "Of course. I should hardly be at risk. Norrington adores me. And were I his wife… I should be blameless."

"Though he may blame you for adultery when this plan of yours meets its end. Jack considered. "I always was rooting for him. As soon as you've got a wedding invitation for me, we can continue negotiations from there."

She blushed a little. "He's already proposed."

Jack was shocked. He knew that the man had been carrying a torch for years, but he had seen it sputter with the events on the day of his escape. He knew the eyes of a wounded man when he saw them. He raised an eyebrow.

"You're charming, my dear, but not that charming. The captain's certainly not a hot blooded fellow, and you've given him reason enough to shy away."

She grinned. Even the gravity of the situation could not take away the devilish pride she took in her conquest.

"He's hot blooded enough when, and where, it counts."

Jack took a breath to speak, paused, and the innuendo hit him.

"You seduced James Norrington?"

She nodded.

"But… but how? James Norrington, sticks to the straight and narrow like…like…me to a bottle of rum!" Jack stuttered

"I would have expected you of all people, Jack, to know one or two methods," Elizabeth said.

"Well, I suppose you'll make up for sweet William's lack of experience. Poor man. He's a lesson to us all to avoid the advances of attractive young ladies. When can I expect my intelligence reports?"

"Soon. As soon as I accept, the marriage will be arranged as soon as possible. James is very eager to avoid indiscretion should any developments proceed from our… indiscretion."

"Elizabeth, darling, you never cease to amaze."

"Thank you. After the wedding, I can meet you here every fortnight, or my maidservant will bring the appropriate documents in the event that I am unable to free myself from the societal obligations of an Admiral's wife. Do we have an accord?" Elizabeth was happy for the first time in weeks, although now grimly aware of the commitment she was making to her plan.

"We have an accord."

Clinking glasses together, Jack's conspicuously lighter than Elizabeth's, the conspirators drank and shook hands. Jack stood first, with only the slightest wobble. He took a few steps towards the door, then turned back to Elizabeth.

"One more thing, love," he said. "I meant it when I said I wanted an invitation."

* * *

Though he knew there had been no love lost between the Governor and Admiral Levy, on account of the former's refusal to allow the impressment of the Indiaman _Cyclops' _more able bodied hands into the Admiral's fleet, James had still thought it irreverent for Swann to host him a promotion dinner on such a morbid occasion. The death had been sudden. Still, he had appreciated the sentiment, and it afforded him another opportunity to see Elizabeth, towards whom his feelings were as mixed as ever. The enormity of his promotion, the rank towards which every post captain aspired, was dwarfed by the implications. He was now certain of a steady income, and could afford to keep a wife. He hated seeing her unhappy, and he remembered her smiles and laughter during their evening at the symphony. She teased him with hope while he rationalized it all away. A darker, more thrilling thought also plagued him. As admiral, he had the power to make her happiness almost certain, should he choose to exercise it and recall the traitor William Turner. It was an action against all logic and reason, but James' reliance on those virtues had been heavily shaken by his own transgressions. She was a gentlewoman, and he had, of course, proposed, but he was unsure whether or not that was sufficient for stupidity of his degree.

James Norrington was wracked with indecision. He ran the events of that night through his head a thousand times and came to no conclusion.

The dinner had come to it's conclusion, followed by coffee and cards. Governor Swann had retired early, which, considering his earlier efforts at arranging a match, spoke miles. Soon the other guests had left Elizabeth and him alone in the parlor. He vowed to say something pleasant. He praised the good nature and rare human courtesy of the Captain of the _Matilda, _and made every reassurance that Will would make it through his ordeal alive, though to what end he could not say. He realized only when he saw the tears in her eyes that he had chosen an indelicate topic of conversation. But she wouldn't take the handkerchief he offered. She turned her head away- he still remembered every second-and he reached out a hand to wipe away the wet trail on her cheek. There had been so many moments in his life to reach out and touch her, and yet he never had.

He knew now why. James was not, as many suspected, a prude, though he rarely acted on his baser impulses. Acquaintance with men of science kept him away from the lower sort of whore that many naval men frequented, and the medically unpleasant consequences. But his thoughts were anything but pure when he felt the impossibly faint brush of her lips on his fingers, and could taste the faint salt of tears when he kissed her mouth. He had never started down that path because he knew he was too weak to stop himself. Well, he thought bitterly, at least he could be proud of the accuracy of his self assessment.

* * *

Jack Sparrow stood in the back of the church with a small group of people who looked considerably less prosperous than the crowd of ornately bedecked ladies and gentlemen sitting in the pews. He assumed he was among the lesser servants of the Swann household, who merited invitations to the day's happy occasion, but not, alas, chairs. He shifted his aching legs a little to stretch. Looking down at his restless feet he frowned at the buckled shoes he wore over white stockings. They did nothing for his stringy, thin calves. Norrington's, by contrast, were thick and well muscled, and complemented by the tight silk. Jack wondered if they might be fake, but dismissed the idea when they twitched realistically. The small tic was the newly appointed admiral's only sign of nervousness as Elizabeth walked into the sanctuary.

Jack had never before attended a wedding, and was not familiar with the usual look of radiance that graces the visage of the archetypal bride. When the gentlewomen saw this bride's fierce eyes, determined gaze, and firmly set chin, they whispered that she looked positively savage. Captain Sparrow merely saw the same Elizabeth that he had always known.

Fighting the current of turned eyes, Jack looked again at James. Admiral Norrington did not smile, but the joyful light in his eyes was enough to send an unexpected wave of pity rushing over Jack as he remembered the true reasons for his marriage.

_Poor blighter_, he thought, _I hope he knows what he's getting into_.

* * *

**Author's notes**

**What's this? An update? Shocking, I know, you'd probably expected that this piece had been abandoned. Which is semi accurate, but none of my stories are ever completely done for. So for now, please enjoy this chapter, and I apologize for the wait and appreciate your patience!**

**La Romanesque  
**


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